


Shelter From The Storm

by BourbonBoredom



Category: Logan Lucky (2017)
Genre: Dark and Stormy Night, Drinking leads to Fucking, F/M, One Shot, bar sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-09-07 15:47:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16856857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BourbonBoredom/pseuds/BourbonBoredom
Summary: On a dark and stormy night, Duck Tape is empty of all customers. Or at least until a woman shows up seeking shelter from the storm. Clyde Logan, ever the gentleman, keeps her warm in more way than one.





	Shelter From The Storm

Slow Saturdays were few and far between at Duck Tape. The bar, usually packed with patrons drinking away their weekday worries, was unusually empty on account of a freak thunderstorm. The rain was coming down in sheets, and the lightning was so bright it could light up the entire night sky. Rightfully, people were staying out of dodge that evening, preferring to drink in the safety of their own homes. Clyde didn’t mind much though, an empty bar was welcome every once in a while as it gave him time to himself.

The music from the jukebox competed with the sound of rain hitting the roof and thunder rumbling low. He sat at the bar with a book. He kept one under the counter just for nights like this. He was so engrossed in his chapter that he almost missed the sound of the front door opening. The door slammed shut with a bang, causing his new patron to let out a squeak.

“Sorry about that, the wind caught it,” a voice came.

He looked up to see a girl standing in his doorway, sopping wet. Her jacket was completely soaked, with her jeans not too far behind. She was struggling to remove the material of the former from her body, dripping all over the floor. She managed to remove her jacket and hung it up by the door. She walked up to the bar, trying to look like she didn’t just run through the storm of the decade to get indoors. Clyde put his book down and circled behind the bar.

“What can I get the only person brave enough to be out in this weather?” he asked.

“It’s not intentional, I’m just passing through and didn’t realize the storm would be this bad. You were the first place off the exit that looked open,” she smiled, looking a little embarrassed.

“Well you can wait it out in here, maybe it’ll go faster with a drink?” he inwardly kicked himself, he didn’t want this girl to think he was trying to get rid of her.

“Only if you make one for yourself,” she pointed at him, “Something that’ll warm me up, please. Bartender’s choice,”

“Somethin’ warm, coming right up,” he grabbed an old go-to and got to work.

Fireball Whiskey could warm just about anyone up. He took that and combined it with vanilla vodka and apple juice in a shaker. He was acutely aware of how his patron was watching him work one-handed. If she wanted to ask him about his prosthetic, she seemed to think better of it. He poured the cocktail in to two glasses, pushing one her way. She took a sip and her face instantly lit up.

“This is great! What is this?”

“An Apple Pie, they’re popular ‘round here in the fall,” he took a sip of his own, relishing the pleasantly warm sensation it left in his throat.

“It’s definitely warming me up, so thank you,” she reached in to her pocket to pay him but he put his hand up to stop her.

“It’s on the bar tonight,”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure,”

“Well could you tell me your name so I can properly thank you?”

“It’s Clyde. And you?”

She told him her name, raising her glass for a cheers. They clinked and drank.

“If anything, you’re doing me a favor being here. You’ve been my only customer all night,” he confided.

“Well that sounds lonely,”

“It’s not too bad. I got the jukebox goin’,”

“I noticed,” she smiled and stopped to listen to the music for a moment. “Shelter From The Storm is a little on the nose don’t you think?”

“You like Bob Dylan?” he asked.

“Does anyone not like Bob Dylan?” she took another sip of her drink. “What else you got on that jukebox?”

———————————

Another round of Apples Pies and an hour later, the two of them had managed to create a satisfactory playlist that would last the evening. The storm still raged outside, but neither of them seemed to mind. Her clothes were almost dry now, and was feeling plenty warmed-up by the drinks.

“Don’t let me have another one of these, I’m gonna need to be able to drive when the storm lets up,” she tried to be serious, but her cheeks were pink and she kept fighting a smile. It was adorable, not the Clyde would say it out loud.

“Yes ma’am,” he said, still working on his own glass. He secretly hoped the storm would last a little longer so she could stick around, he was enjoying her company.

“You’ve got nice eyes, you know that?” she said suddenly. A blush crept down his neck, making him thankful that he chose to wear a collared shirt.

“I—um,”

“You don’t take compliments well, huh?” she teased.

“I suppose not. I don’t usually get them unless someone’s trying to sweeten me up so they don’t have to pay their tab,”

“Well you already said this was on you, right?” her eyes shone. “I’m not saying it for the tab then,”

“Well, thank you,” he managed to stutter out. He could feel his whole face heat up. He turned around and acted like he was looking for something, but really he was just hoping to hide the very apparent blush on his face from a very pretty girl complimenting him.

A huge flash of lightning streaked across the sky at that exact moment, followed by a deafening crack of thunder. Blinding light was followed by a pop and the power going down in the bar.

Well, fuck. That’s one way to hide it.

The jukebox cut off in the middle of an Eagles song, and it was completely dark. After a few moments, his eyes adjusted and he saw her looking at him from across the counter.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yeah, just a little startled. You?”

“I’m okay, it looks like that last bolt took out the power though,”

“Yeah, is your bar okay? Do you need to do anything?”

“I got a generator out back, I might be able to get some lights back on,” he remembered. He walked out from behind the bar, coat in hand. “You stay here, I’m gonna try to fix this,”

“Hold on, is it outside?” she grabbed his sleeve as he walked by her.

“Yeah?”

“It’s still storming out. Mixing lightning and generators isn’t a good idea, I don’t want your bar catching on fire,” she reasoned. She slowly realized she had been holding on to him, and quickly dropped her hold.

“You’re probably right,” he noted, skin tingling where she had touched him. “I think I have some candles in the back, that should help until I can get the generator going,”

“I’ll help bring them up front,” she said, hopping off her barstool to trail behind him.

He began heading for the back of the bar, using his phone to light the way. He knew Duck Tape like the back of his hand, so walking around in the dark wasn’t much of an issue. His new friend, on the other hand, bumped in to a chair, sending her hurling towards the ground. Clyde managed to catch her before she could hurt herself, holding her by the waist as she regained her balance.

“You alright?” he asked.

“All good, thanks,” she replied, patting his chest to assure him that he could let go. He did, slower than he probably should have.

They retrieved an armful of candles each, heading back to the front of the bar, to rearrange them around the counter. He took his lighter from his pocket, going around and lighting the wicks. The room slowly regained a little of its lost light.

“I have some blankets in my car, I don’t know how long we’re gonna be here but it might help to have the extra warmth,” she appealed.

“I think I have one in my car too,” he noted. “Wanna race to get ‘em?”

“You’re on,” her face curled in to a smile.

The two stood on the covered porch of Duck Tape a few moment later. Coats pulled on, zipped up, and hoods thrown over their heads. Clyde’s coat sleeve was pulled down around his prosthetic to present the machinery from getting wet. Their cars were parked right by the railing, it would have been an easy trip if it wasn’t for the rain was coming down.

“Ready?” she asked.

“Ready,” he responded, fishing his keys out of his pocket.

“Go!” she shouted, giving him a light push back as she ran ahead.

“Hey!” he yelled, trying to catch up, loving how she sounded as she laughed.

Wearing a coat was basically pointless, as Clyde was soaked within a few moments it took to reach the trunk of his car. He opened the trunk, grabbing the spare blanket sitting in the back, and closed it with a slam. She had just gotten her trunk open. She had dropped her keys earlier and was slowed down. He came over to help, gathering a few blankets in his arms when she managed to open her car. She held a few of her own, slamming the trunk shut as they raced back inside.

“Fuck! I’m soaked!” she exclaimed, throwing the blankets down on the floor. They had managed to keep them relatively dry but their clothes, on the other hand, were goners.

“Me too, but it’s worth it cuz I won,” he teased, peeling his jacket off.

“Says you!” she scoffed, throwing her own jacket at him. He smiled and hung it up to dry with his own.

“God, wet jeans are literally the most uncomfortable thing on earth. And this is the second time today!” she grumbled. She brought the blankets to behind the bar, walking with wide steps to prevent the denim from rubbing against her skin.

“I hear ya,” he grabbed a clean cloth from the bar to wipe down his arm. It had gotten wet outside, and it needed to be dried off before any damage could come to it.

“Hey Clyde,” she called. “Would you mind if I—um. Would you mind if I hung my clothes by the window? I think they’ll dry faster if they’re not on me,”

The blush was back. His body felt so hot, he figured maybe his clothes would dry up then and there.

“Uhm—”

“Oh god, forget I even asked,” her voice was filled with embarrassment. “It’s the alcohol I think, sorry, I’m being stupid. I barely even know you,”

“No, no, it’s fine,” he started, trying to find the words he was looking for. “It’s alright if you wanna, um— dry your clothes,”

Clyde prided himself on being a Southern Gentleman. His mama raised him to respect women, and he knew better than to do anything to make a lady uncomfortable. He turned around as she pulled her shirt over her head. He could see the faintest outline of her figure in the reflection of the window, but instead turned his interest to the wood grain of the floor. He felt a hand on his shoulder a few minutes later. He turned around to see her standing behind him. She had wrapped herself in a blanket, holding her wet clothes in her arms.

“Do you wanna dry yours out too? I can get you a blanket,” she asked, not able to fully meet his gaze.

“I—uh—I think it would be the quicker option,” he mumbled.

“Would it be less weird if we both took a shot before? For nerves?” after a moment, he nodded, not being able to actually say anything out loud.

She laid out her clothes by the door, and went back to the bar and grabbed a random bottle from the shelf. She unscrewed the top and took a deep swig, hissing as she brought the bottle away from her lips.

“Christ, that’s a strong one, what did I even grab?”

“It looks like you grabbed my best Kentucky Bourbon, darlin’” he said as he took the bottle from her. It was one of the top-shelf liquors he offered.

“Oh shit, I’m so sorry, I can put it back and grab something else,”

“No, it’s fine. It don’t get much use. People usually go for the lower-quality whiskeys around here,” he took a swig of his own, savoring the way the liquid burned in his chest.

“Besides,” he said as he handed the bottle back to her. “It’s best to drink the good stuff when you got good company,”

She smiled at that, turning back to grab him a blanket. He stripped away his shirt, followed by his jeans and, well, everything else. He felt a little self-conscious but fuck it, this storm and this alcohol was making him a lot braver than he usually felt. He thought he felt a pair of eyes staring at him as he lost his boxers.

“Heads up!” she called.

Something soft hit his back. He looked down to see a blanket at his feet. He laid his clothes to dry next to hers and bundled himself in the blanket. Upon looking over to the bar, he found she was nowhere to be seen. Clyde called out her name, wondering where she could have gone to.

“Down here!” she called back. Her hand waved, peaking just over the counter. He leaned over to see the set-up she had created in the middle of the bar area.

The candles were set on the counter, creating a soft glow for the area. The blankets had been spread out across the floor, with her resting her back on the wall. She smiled up at him, holding the bottle of whiskey.

“Wanna join me?” she lifted the bottle in his direction.

He circled around to the entrance and sat down next to her, making sure his blanket was covering all of his body. He took the bottle from her hand and took a generous swig.

“So, you do this often?” he asked.

“Do what?”

“Come to people’s bars, strip out all’ve your clothes, and drink their best booze?”

“Mmmmm, not usually, I’d say this is a first” she laughed, taking the bottle back. “Do you usually let strange women come in to your bar, strip and drink your booze?”

“Can’t say I do,”

“Well, here’s to firsts,” she rose the bottle to her lips and drank.

“To firsts,” he took it as it was passed to him. He was starting to feel the consequences of swigging whiskey from the bottle. His body felt pleasantly warm,and he was on his way to getting tipsy. She seemed to be right there with him.

“So,” she said, looking at him.

“So,” he parroted.

“Since our jukebox playlist was so rudely interrupted, how about I try to guess something about you and if I get it wrong, I have to drink. But if I’m right, you drink. Same goes for you,”

“Alright. Shoot,”

She studied him for a bit, looking over his long, wild hair, his large frame, his prosthetic hand. It made him feel a little shy to be watched so closely.

“You grew up here,” she concluded. He took a drink.

“That’s just cheatin’,” he said, passing her the bottle. “You’re not from around here,”

“Did the accent give it away?” she teased, taking her drink. “Okay, let’s make it a little harder. I’m gonna guess that your favorite cocktail is a whiskey sour,”

“Sorry darlin’,” he said, passing the bottle her way. “It’s a negroni,”

“Very traditional choice. What do you think mine is?”

“If I had to guess, I’d say you’re a Paloma kinda lady,”

“A what? I don’t even know what that is,” she laughed, passing the bottle his way.

“It’s tequila, grapefruit, lime, sugar, and club soda,”

“That actually sounds pretty good,”

“I’ll make you one sometime. Preferably when the lights are on,”

“I’ll have to take you up on that offer. My favorite is a good mojito,”

“I guarantee your bartenders hate you, those take some effort,”

“I know! I don’t ask for them often,” she hid her face in her hands, “I knew one day one of you would finally accost me for it,”

“You’re lucky you’re cute, we’re nicer to customers we like,” the words came out of his mouth before he could think. This whiskey was really not his friend tonight.

“Well, thank you, I’ll try to keep using it to my advantage,” she said, cupping her hand under his chin. It was a playful move, but the touch all but burned his skin.

Sure, it was dark. And they were lit by candlelight. But this mystery girl was radiant. Her smile, her laugh, the way she moved, it was as if she could light up a room just by entering it. Clyde had put romance on the back-burner for quite some time, but he was thinking he could indulge for one night.

“I got one. I think you were peekin’ when you threw me that blanket,” he held his gaze steady on her, eyebrow raised. She stared back with a neutral expression, as if challenging him to change his opinion. She finally took the bottle from his hand.

“Only for a second,” she took her drink, keeping eye contact. “Can you blame me?”

“I suppose you could blame the bourbon,”

“Let’s blame it on that. We’re you checking me out too?”

“No ma’am,”

“Really?” she challenged.

“Cross my heart,”

“Such a gentleman,” she laughed, taking another drink. She set the bottle down on the floor and turned her body towards her new companion. “I think you wanted to though,”

“Doesn’t matter if I wanted to, it wouldn’t be respectful,”

“I wasn’t very respectful, I think it’d be okay to even the field,” her eyes seemed to darken as she spoke.

“I suppose it would,” Clyde could barely hear his own voice over his heart beating in his ears. She shuffled in front of him, holding her blanket closed at her chest.

Slowly, she let the heavy fabric fall from her shoulders. She brought her hands down to her sides, taking the rest of the fabric with them. Her body came fully in to view, every curve, every freckle was on display for him.

He reached out with his hand, unsure of whether he was allowed to touch. He came in contact with the blanket and grabbed hold, tugging to pull her closer. She obliged, bringing her knees to either side of his hips. Neither of them were really breathing, as if taking that breath would make the moment disappear. She dropped her hold on the blanket, letting it fall away. She looked resplendent, skin almost glowing in the candlelight.

“You’re gorgeous,” he whispered.

She cupped his face in her hands and seated herself in his lap. She brought her face to his, slowly, as if she was unsure whether or not to really do this. He took the blanket that was draped around her body and dragged it to the floor, leaving her no room to hide. Her face was hovering a few inches away from his when he brought his hand to her cheek. He ghosted the tips of his finger along her jaw, then her neck, before finally settling on her shoulder. He pulled her to him, closing the gap.

Her lips landed on his softly, and he returned the kiss with a little more fervor. Their tongues slowly circled each other and dipped into the other’s mouth as they grew needier. His hand trailed up and down her body, touching as much of her as he could with one hand. His left hand, his prosthetic hand, remained at his side. He wasn’t sure if she would like being touched with it. As if she could hear his thoughts, she dropped one hand from his face and grabbed his forearm, resting the metal of his fingers on her hip.

“It’s okay,” she said in between kisses.

With this new permission, he explored her body. He brought his hands up to her breasts, tweaking her nipples in a way that made her moan into his mouth. He was growing harder, his cock straining against the blanket wrapped around him. He could feel a damp spot growing where she was straddling him. She began working the blanket off his shoulders, dragging it down to his waist, where it was being held closed by her body. She broke the kiss with a soft bite to his lower lip, and began working her way down his body. Clyde let out a groan as she started kissing his neck. She planted slow pecks down his collarbone, his chest and finally his torso. She made sure to kiss every freckle she encountered. Her hands held the heavy fabric as she looked up at him.

“Can I?” she asked

“Go on, darlin’,” he encouraged.

She smiled up at him before turning her gaze to his covered body. She had worked her way further down his body, resting by hiss ankles, giving her plenty of room to unfurl the blanket covering him. She watched with hungry eyes as her hands drew the fabric from his form. His cock bobbed as it was released. He was fully hard, with precum beading at the tip. She sat back in her straddled position at his hips, her mound rubbing against his cock. She put her hands around his neck and pulled him into another heated kiss.

“Do you have a condom somewhere?” she asked as she broke away.

“I should in my wallet over there,” he motioned to his coat by the door.

“Not the best place to be storing condoms,” she teased.

She got up, fully naked, and walked out from behind the bar to get his wallet. She came back a few moments later, handing it to him and sitting back down. Clyde found the condom he had stowed away, and threw the rest of the wallet to the side. He held it up so she could see before pulling her closer to him by her hips. He ripped open the packet, rolling the latex on. She positioned her hips over him, hands resting on his broad shoulders.

“Are y’sure about this?” he asked.

“Clyde, c’mon, I need you inside me,” she moaned, lowering herself on to him. She got as far as the tip before he caught her in his hands. She looked surprised that he had stopped her, letting out a desperate whimper. He looked at her, eyes clouded with lust.

“Say that again,” he groaned. He was aching, wanting nothing more than to bury himself inside her. He could feel her cunt dripping on him.

“Please, Clyde, I need you inside of me,” she whined in frustration, trying to force her hips down further.

“Fuck, darlin’,” he growled, pushing her hips down on him. He moaned as he bottomed out. Her hands were gripping his shoulders, head lulling back and eyes closed with her lips parted in a perfect o.

“You doin’ okay?” he breathed out, pressing kisses to her exposed neck.

“You feel perfect,” she answered after a moment. She brought her head forward and kissed him deeply.

Their moans were smothered by the kiss as she rode him, their bodies trying to find a rhythm at a frantic pace. He couldn’t get enough of her. His hands tangled in her hair one moment, and dropped to her breasts at the next. One hand finally rested at her clit, rubbing it in tight circles as she bounced on his cock.

“Oh fuck keep doing that,” she mewled. She fisted a hand in his dampened hair.

She tried to keep her rhythm as he stroked her but the closer she came to orgasming, the harder it was to keep up. He took over, thrusting in to her as hard as she would let him. Her head dropped to his shoulder, nipping at his neck as he fucked her. Her cunt began to flutter around his cock, squeezing him impossibly tight.

“I’m—I’m gonna,” she managed to stutter out, eyes squeezing shut.

“Cum for me darlin,” he growled. He wanted nothing more than to feel her cum on his cock, to hear her moan his name as he brought her to climax. His fingers rubbed her clit faster and harder, cock drawing almost all the way out before slamming in to her again.

She came with a whimper, biting her bottom lip as his name left her lips. One hand fisted in his hair as the other’s fingernails bit into his bicep. Her walls clenched around him, drawing him closer to his own release. The coil in his core drawing tighter and tighter as she came down from her high and began to ride him again. She looked him in the eye as he was on the edge of climax, coaxing him as he moaned her name and went tumbling over. He emptied himself inside the condom, hips stuttering before ceasing to thrust.

His curls fell in his face as he tried to catch his breath. They were moved off his face with care by her fingers, tucking the strands behind his ear. He brought his head back up to get a good look at her. She looked as tired as him, but had a grin across her face. She kissed his nose, and then his lips.

“You okay?” she asked.

“Better than okay,” he replied, giving a quick kiss back. He tapped her hips to signal he needed to get up. She sat to the side, bringing her blanket up over her shoulders. He threw the condom away before sitting back down next to her.

“Do you usually fuck strange women at your bar?” she offered him half of the blanket. He draped it over his shoulders, letting her lean into him.

“I can’t say I do,” he replied. “I think we can blame that on the bourbon. And the storm. And maybe even the woman,”

“Oh, this is on me?” she laughed.

“I’d say it’s on both of us,”

“Hmm, that’s fair,” she ran her fingers through his hair, absentmindedly massaging his scalp. It was a change from her tugging at his locks just moments ago, but it felt just as nice.

“You tired me out,” he said, feeling his eyelids begin to grow heavy.

“Good, it’s not just me then,” she yawned. “ Is it okay to sleep here tonight? It doesn’t look like the storm let up,”

“Fine by me,”

They worked together to pile the blankets on the floor to make a thin mattress, with the biggest blanket on top to cover them. She went around the bar blowing out the candles as he put away the bourbon. They got under the covers and began to drift off soon after.

She drifted off before he did, giving him time to look at the strange woman sleeping next to him on the floor of his bar. This wasn’t like him, this whole situation wasn’t like him, but he was glad it happened. Maybe if the storm let up enough by morning he’d take her out for coffee. Anything to spend a little more time with her. He fell asleep to the sound of rain pattering against the roof.

———————————

Clyde awoke the next morning to sunlight streaming in to his eyes. He was groggy, with a baby hangover from all the bourbon. He reached out next to him to discover her side was empty. He sat up and looked around. She wasn’t anywhere to be found. He gathered the blanket around him as he stood. The storm had ended, and her clothes were gone from the window, along with her jacket by the door. He noticed his own clothes had dried out in the morning sun. He pulled his pants on and started walking to the back, thinking she might have wandered off somewhere.

A piece of paper caught his eye on the counter as he walked by. He stopped and picked it up, noticing it was a note from her.

Thanks for last night, I won’t be forgetting it any time soon!  
I.O.U. one bottle of top-shelf bourbon!

She signed her name with an X next to it. A kiss.

His chest felt a little heavy at the thought of her leaving without saying goodbye. In the back of his mind he figured it would be a one night stand, but he truly enjoyed her companionship. He sighed as he put the rest of his clothes on and circled back around the bar to pick up the blankets and go on with his day. She had left hers, so she would have to come back at some point.

Right?

———————————

A week passed without hearing any word from her. Clyde kind of figured he’d never see her again. Despite this, his head perked up every time he heard the door to Duck Tape open.

In that week he fixed up any electrical problems, and got his bar back in order after the storm of the decade. He’d smile to himself every time someone played Bob Dylan on the jukebox, his brother even caught him humming along a few times. Over time, that night felt more like a dream than a memory.

Another week passed by and he’d fully given up at that point. No way was anyone going to wait that long just to pick up a few blankets. No way was anyone going to wait that long to see him again. He knew it was too good to be true, that any connection he felt with her was just the alcohol talking. He’d get over it eventually, he thought as he pulled in to the parking lot of Duck Tape for the opening shift.

It didn’t take him long to realize there was another car in the lot. A familiar-looking car. He pulled in to his usual spot, making eye contact with the strange woman sitting on his porch. Her eyes seemed to light up when she saw him, and she waved as he opened his car door.

“Hey,” she called.

“Hey,” he closed his car door and walked over to her apprehensively.

“I’m sorry I didn’t come back sooner, I had some family stuff to deal with,”

“It’s fine,” he said, trying to downplay every feeling of doubt he’d had in the last two weeks.

“I got you a replacement bottle for that bourbon,” she brought the bottle out from behind her back, holding it out for him.

“You didn’t have to,” he knew how expensive that particular brand was.

“I mean, it’s the least I can do. You saved me from that storm, you drank with me, you let me sleep there. And, you know, other stuff. Think of it as a ‘thank you’ gift,”

“Well, thank you. I was gonna open up the bar, you wanna come in? I can make you that Paloma while I set up for the night,”

“Not right now,” She replied quickly.

His chest fell again. He really needed to stop getting his hopes up.

“Well, I’ll see you around I guess,” He put the bottle down on the porch and began unlocking the front door, turning his body away from her before she could see his disappointment.

“Clyde wait,” she put her arm on his shoulder. He took a breath before he had the courage to turn around to face her. When he did, she wasn’t looking at him. She was looking down at her feet, with a noticeably pink tinge to her ears.

“I—I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant—I was just gonna ask,” she took a deep breath of her own before looking up at him. “Would you like to go get some coffee? With me?”

He felt a little stunned. He stood there as she kept talking to fill the awkward silence.

“I mean, I really enjoyed out time together that night and I wanna get to know you better. But if now’s not a good time that cool, we can do it later. Or not at all. I think I’m just embarrassing myself, I’m gonna leave now—“ she started inching away, looking flustered.

“I’d like that a lot,” Clyde finally blurted out. He caught her hand before she could go any further. “The coffee I mean. And now is good,”

She looked down at his hand holding hers. She laced her fingers with his.

“There’s a diner down the street I think,” she smiled, “Can’t go wrong with diner coffee,”

“I think you’re right darlin’,” he squeezed her hand.

“And we’ve got no bourbon to blame this time, only ourselves,” she led him off the porch towards her car.

“I don’t think thats a bad thing,” he smiled, realizing he’d follow this strange girl anywhere just to be in her glow.


End file.
